I scratched the top of my foot open on a rusty nail. The blood was pretty though because it matched my newly painted red toenails.

I cut my ankle on a metal scrap (Can I say the word shrapnel if it did not happen during a battle?).

I bruised my upper arm, a nice-looking black orb, when I ran into a door handle at the movie theater when Leah and I had date night to see Divergent.

I bit my lower lip close to where the skin turns red. It feels like I have a piece of gum tucked between my lower front teeth and my constantly pouting lip. Then I bit the other side of my lower lip.

My fingernails are cut short. As short as they go because I ripped the thumbnail off attempting to latch the kitchen window. Humidity does all sort of frustrating things to wood houses…

Mosquite bites freckle my ankles, legs, arms, and yes, butt. But luckily I´ve only had Dengue just the once and I´ve yet to fall victim to the Chik (read up on Chikingunya, please!)

 

I fell and cut my knee and hand open. I had to cut the dangling skin off my palm and pick out tiny rocks. I think there might be some gravel floating around inside me still. I swear sand somehow embedded itself layers down. I left it there. I’d have to reopen the cut to get them out. This way I’ll always have a piece of Bananas with me.

 

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